Deception (Infidelity #3)(108)

I nodded as I laid my head back against the leather seat and the small plane ascended. Over the next two hours, Deloris searched the patient records of all of the major hospitals and came up empty. Nothing. No Adelaide Fitzgerald was registered anywhere.

“Alex,” she asked as we neared Savannah, “have you heard of Mongolia Woods?”

“No.”

“It’s a private facility west of Savannah that specializes in rehab for alcohol and drug addiction.”

“What? Are you serious? My mother is going to dry out?”

“Does she drink?”

“Yes, but not… well, it’s never been a problem.”

She turned the screen of her iPad toward me. The old Southern estate looked similar to Montague Manor with giant oak trees draped with Spanish moss along a driveway. She swiped the screen and the next picture was of a lovely old home, large, but not as large as the manor.

“That’s where she is?” I asked. “So she’s not dying. It’s not cancer or something?”

Deloris nodded. “That’s where she is. She was admitted a few hours ago. But her records aren’t fully updated. I don’t know exactly why she’s there. I’d venture to guess that it’s not a life-threatening diagnosis; however, alcohol and drug abuse can lead to death.”

“She’s always drank, but I’ve never known anyone who could handle it better than her. But drugs? My mother would never take drugs.” I handed Deloris back her iPad. “How do you do that? Is it public record?”

“No. I have ways. The thing is, this place is fully subsidized through private funds. What little information that I can gather, your mother has a strict no-visitor status for the first forty-eight hours.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “I’m her daughter. They’ll let me see her.”

“We’ll do our best.”





MY FINGERS DRUMMED on the inside of the window of the large black SUV that Deloris had secured for our use in Savannah. Clayton sat at the steering wheel while I sat alone in the backseat. It had been over fifteen minutes since Deloris had disappeared into the front entrance of Mongolia Woods. I’d wanted to go with her, to plead my own case, but she thought she would have better success on my behalf.

Click, click, my nails tapped on the glass as time stood still and I impatiently waited.

Beyond the windows, the Georgia sun reminded me that warm weather still existed in late October, even if New York had surrendered to the impending winter.

I pushed my sunglasses onto my head as my purse vibrated in my lap.





NOX - PRIVATE NUMBER


I sighed, wishing he were beside me instead of back in the frigid North.

Nox: “ANY WORD”?

Me: “NOT YET. DELORIS IS STILL INSIDE.”

Nox: “I’M LEAVING IN A FEW MINUTES. THE BATPLANE IS FUELED AND READY. I’LL BE THERE IN STEALTH SPEED.”

Me: “BRING YOUR CAPE. I THINK I SHOULD HAVE SEEN THAT BY NOW.”

Nox: “SEE YOU SOON.”

Me: “LOVE YOU.”

Nox: “MORE.”

I took a deep breath, realizing that for the first time since Chelsea’s text, I was actually smiling. My brief reprieve quickly dimmed at the sound of Clayton’s words.

“Ma’am, Mrs. Witt is coming.”

I lifted my eyes from my phone toward the facility. Deloris was descending the large concrete steps. Her lips pursed tight as she navigated the unfamiliar terrain. She looked our way. There was nothing encouraging in her expression.

A moment later she was in the backseat beside me, speaking. Her tone was placating and calm. “I learned that she is stable, but they won’t allow anyone to see her.”

Disappointment gutted me as hope faded away. “No. Let me go in. Let me talk to them. She’s my mother!”

“Alex, they know who you are. The problem…”

Deloris’s words dimmed as rage bubbled from my toes, engulfing my entire body with scorching heat. I knew the problem. I saw the problem. Alton Fitzgerald was the problem.

My mother’s husband buttoned his suit coat as he exited the same door that Deloris had just used.

Without thinking, I opened the door of the SUV.

“Alex…”

I didn’t hear Deloris’s warning or Clayton’s door open as blood coursed noisily through my ears. Adjusting my sunglasses, I stepped quickly toward my stepfather.

“Let me see my mother.”





SIGNATURE CRIMSON FLOWED upward from the starched white collar of his shirt as Alton Fitzgerald stopped midstep and turned my direction. “It appears as though the prodigal daughter has returned.”

I didn’t stop walking until I was right before him. “I want to see her.”

“You’ll have to understand that I have no intentions of slaying a fatted calf on this occasion simply because you’ve decided to grace us with your presence.”

“What happened?” I asked.

He looked over my shoulder toward the SUV as a limousine pulled past it and up to the edge of the walkway.

I turned back to see both Clayton and Deloris standing beside the SUV looking as though they were both ready to run in my direction.

“Come home and we’ll discuss this. Alone,” he emphasized the last word.